Wrote My Way Out
by Sammy Heroes
Summary: The world is cruel and because of where you came from and where you are now, you will always have the disadvantage, the blame will always be on you, no matter if it's not true. But Fenton knew he could brake barriers and become something more than just an inmigrant. (Rated T, headcanon fic)


**Hi! Thank you for reading my other fic with Mrs. Beakley and Duckworth. Now here is another headcanon fic with another favorite of mine, Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera, aka, Gizmoduck!!! Let me know in your comments what do you think and if I should write another headcanon fic about other characters.**

Fenton was really young when his father walked out. He was young enough not to have real memories of him but of pictures his Mami had long enough burned away.

Ever since, Mami had worked her butt off to be able to provide for him and survive. Fenton was too young to truly understand, but he wasn't stupid. He never was. He knew that the only way to help her was to study hard, be the best out there, make her proud. So ever since he was young, he was always trying to write his way out.

He wrote essays, speeches, presentations, even poetry to open doors to the future during his school years.

"Fenton, we need to leave."

"To where?"

"To a better place to live. Now, _mijo,_ get your things, we leave now."

After they moved away from Cuba and into Duckburg, Calisota, Fenton still dedicated himself to be the best out there. Even in a land he didn't know much. Or was welcomed by all.

"Where do you come from?" Other students would ask in school. He would answer. Some found it cool to meet an inmigrant, but many times he was met with racist remarks or insults agaisnt his intelligence or for who he was. Many more times that he could count he was accused for not having a green card. People would mock his accent, his feather color or why he spoke so fast. He just smiled and shrugged it off.

"Freak..." It was a remark he was well accustomed to.

Fenton knew poverty and hunger. He and his mami had experienced it for a long time. He knew it first hand and everytime he could, he would give food to the homeless.

He wrote essays after essays for numerous universities around the country, trying to catch an opportunity to become better. Months before his high school graduation, he had been accepted into ten prestigious universities, three of them in St. Canard and Duckburg. Two of them offered 90% of tuition paid.

He graduated top of his class, receiving a generous number of scholarships and grants and awards. But aside from it all, his biggest award had been his mother's proud smile.

Then, mami got sick. Fenton had been planning to go to MIT, but no one else could take care of his mom, even when she insisted she was fine when she was not. She couldn't work any longer and it was then that Fenton decided to go to Duckburg University instead. It wasn't bad. It was one of the colleges that offered almost a full ride and it was pretty close to home. So he stayed.

The remarks based on stereotypes never stopped. He was always insulted, put aside, an outcast. He never answered back, but instead, used this as fuel to become someone better. He worked part-time, joined choir for an extra scholarship, studied day in and day out, took care of his mami and wrote a thesis.

Close to his college graduation, he was offered an opportunity he could _not_ refuse.

McDUCK INDUSTRIES

LOOKING FOR INTERNS ESPECIALLIZED IN SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY.

PAID INTERSHIP (don't expect too much, though) WITH POSSIBILITY TO A PERMANENT JOB.

 **ONLY** **FIVE INTERNSHIPS AVAILABLE**

REQUIREMENTS:

 _COLLEGE TRANSCRIPT_

 _GPA OF 3.50 OR HIGHER_

 _MAJORING IN SCIENTIFIC AREA OR RELATED_

 ** _TWENTY-FIVE PAGE LONG ESSAY DESCRIBING THE IMPORTANCE OF SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY TO THE WORLD_**

Fenton couldn't believe his luck! Yes, this was something he could do. With newfound optimism, he took the advertisement with him and headed home.

"Mami? _Estoy en casa!_ " Fenton yelled as he stumbled through the front door of their comfy, one story high home. "I'm home!"

"Over here, _mi amor_!" He heard his mom from the living room. There she sat, watching TV while rubbing her hands and trying to hide away her pain from her son.

Fenton hugged her and told her about his day and future plans all while rubbing her hands and feeling her weakened bones. "How is the arthritis treating you, mami?"

" _Como una puta._ " She laughed. ("Like a bitch)

Fenton worked tirelessly for nights on that essay until his hands ached. He submitted it before the deadline and prayed that he would be given a chance.

A week later, he received a letter. The letter stated a greeting and that he was being considered for the intership, but first would need to pass an interview.

The day before the interview, one of his tormentors dating all the way back to high school, got wind of his chance.

"You'll never get that job. You think they will hire an illegal inmigrant like you?"

"I'm not illegal. I have all my papers."

"That's what you say! Go back to Mexico, you little freak!"

"I'm Cuban!"

He got punched for defending himself.

"Same thing!" And his tormetor left.

He sat in a lonely corner of campus, thinking about his life. He wasn't stupid and he was totally able to defend himself. There were always two reasons he had in mind for never fighting back though. The first was that he didn't want his mami to worry more than she should. The second one, he learned ever since stepping foot on Duckburg: the world is cruel and because of where you came from and where you are now, you will _always_ have the disadvantage, the blame will always be on you, no matter if it's not true.

He just stood up and went to the pharmacy to buy make-up to hide the upcoming bruise on his cheek in the morning.

"Crackshell-Cabrera, Fenton?" The secretary called to him. She was a pretty short thing, obviously new to the job, gorgeous blonde hair and kind smile.

He stood up and fixed his suit, all while ignoring the stinging pain on his cheek.

"Good luck, Fenton." She told him as she guided him to a conference room.

"Thank you, Miss..."

"Dee. Gandra Dee."

"Well, a pleasure, Miss Dee. I'll see you around. Hopefully." He awkwardly stated. _I'm such a fool!_ He thought.

Gandra blushed as she looked up to him. "That would be lovely."

As soon as she left, Fenton took a deep breath and entered the room to face the deadliest enemy yet...

The HR department.

OOO

Fenton was convinced he was dreaming. He would be working directly under THE Dr. Gyro Gearloose!

He stood in line with the other four intern choosen for the job as a HR manager guided them through the many hallways, gave them a tour and employee key cards. Fenton looked down at his own card with pride.

Finally, they were taken to an _underwater_ _lab_ , much to the interns' delight.

Much to the interns' disappointment and bad mood, Gyro wasn't what many would call 'pleasant company'.

He demanded more of them than anyone in their lives. He criticized, he commented, he insulted, he ignored. He looked down on many ideas and discarded them. He was an individual with little patience.

One intern lashed out at him and got fired. Another quit the job and walked away, mumbling something about 'not wanting to commit another murder.' One almost caused a flood in the lab, therefore, got fired.

Only Fenton and the other intern were left. Gyro looked down at them. "I have a task for you two and you better do it right."

He tasked them to design a water powered car. None of the interns ever heard of such thing and they weren't so sure it could be posible.

"You have one week to submit your blueprints and equations. But if you come up with something better, then I'll take it."

Again, Fenton spend a good portion of every night for a week trying to find ways to create a car powered by another source other than fuel.

He might have an idea.

When the time came, both interns submitted their work and Gyro reviewed them. The inventor turned to the other intern first.

"Look, I like your creativity, but no one in their right mind will want a car powered _ala_ Flintstones. It can work... for a gym teacher!" The intern handed Gyro a resignation letter and left.

Now Fenton was alone.

He felt his heart drum agaisnt his ribcage as he watched Gyro look over _his_ blueprints.

"This is-"

That was it. He was done. He could see himself on the streets as a beggar or being deported back to Cuba or work at the local diner or-

"-good, actually."

"What..." Fenton himself asking.

Gyro rolled his eyes. "I said it was good. Are you deaf? You came up with a car that can be charged with electricity, solar power and store kinetic energy from milage. Three ways to charge a car. It's efficient."

"So you're... not going to fire me?"

"Why would I fire you? Unless you are as stupid as the others, then I'll have no problem with it. Are we clear?"

"Crystal, sir."

Gyro groaned. "Alright, dummy. Follow me, I have a project I want you to help me with."

Fenton, excited, followed the rooster. "What shall I be doing? Designing space rockets? Jetpacks? Robots?"

Gyro handed him a box with all the materials he might. "Your lab will be in the bathroom, because that's the perfect place for your work." He put pens and extra paper in the box. "I want you to write down equations to find an apropiate speed for an armor with a living being inside. I also want you to design the perfect interior for an advanced armor. Remember that this project is top secret and if you say a word about it, I'll sue you."

Fenton looked up.

"And write an essay on your findings."

Write. He smiled. He could work with that.

 **Excuse the possibly, inaccurate science, but it was only for fic purposes only. Anyway, I always liked the idea that if the DT17 producers decided to add Gandra Dee, she'll be smaller than Fenton or the same height. But if they decide to add her with her original height, I won't mind really.** **Hamilton reference as the title and Fenton in choir? Yep, reference to Lin Manuel Miranda.** **And before you review, I want to let you know that my description as an inmigrant for Fenton is my own experience, just in case some of you think it's inaccurate. No, I'm not from Mexico, I know what you're thinking.** **Review your thoughts! Should I add another chapter?**


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